Restaurant Review: Frontier

Today, I will review the prestigious Frontier, the most aggressively Midwestern and post-ironic, hipster restaurant in all of Wicker Park.

Dish #1: Crab Benedict
Pictured above: While I question the authenticity of a true prairie family harvesting the crabs and benedicts necessary for this entree, I did finally understand how the Midwestern Native Americans truly did use every part of the benedict. 6 out of 8 stars.

Dish #2: Bacon Omelette
Pictured above: Granted, was it the best omelette I've eaten? No. Was it the most recent omlelette I've eaten? Yes. 17 out of 23 stars.

Dish #3: Rabbit and Waffle
Pictured above: Man, "Rabbit and Waffle" was my favorite early 90's British claymation series. Also, it turns out deep-frying anything and covering it in maple syrup makes it awesome. ONE THOUSAND STARS.

Uncle Benichiro

The winter snow has finally hit Chicago, which can only mean one thing:

Pictured above: That's right Sad Road Marker, it means it's time to go to the oriental food store to stock up on strange ingredients!

First up, I needed to get some Japanese rice. Now, what is "Japanese rice", you ask? Well, racist, Japanese rice is much like most things Japanese: smaller, more expensive, and harboring a secret desire to build a world empire.

Pictured above: Wait, I had something for this. Uncle Benichiro!

And, what goes better with rice than twenty miniature, yogurt-flavored soft-drinks?

Pictured above: I am appalled by the lack of an adorable cartoon character on the package urging me to consume its contents. What's the point of drinking weird, Asian things if they aren't cross-promoting some epileptic morning cartoon or line of Hello-Kitty glitter-purses?

Finally, while in the checkout line, I became overcome with emotion and forced to grab a stack of teas.

Pictured above: For those who don't know, Roasted Green Tea is made from green tea leaves roasted over charcoal, and Oolong Tea is made from the shame you've brought upon your ancestors roasted over firewood.

Restaurant Review: Uncommon Ground

In addition to my chosen career of traumatizing patients and engineering super-viruses, I like to dabble in potential back-up vocations. So far, these have included dog psychologist, personal hype-man, and, now, food critic. Here is my review of the Roger's Park restaurant Uncommon Ground.

From the moment you are banging on the door marked "Not an entrance, please use other door" to try to enter, you can't help but be drawn into the rustic atmosphere of hardwood floors, hardwood walls, and hardwood curtains. The paintings on the walls are widely varied, from elegant scenes of ducks swimming to beautiful portraits of ducks standing. It transports you to a simpler time, when all we had were a sturdy pick-axe and the iPhone 3.

But oh, the food.

Pictured above: Distressed potato sticks, pan-baked in an air reduction, covered this delectable dish of pensive mussels, hand-broiled in a mysterious sauce of uneasy tomatoes and indifferent peppers.

Pictured above: A bacon-sealed meat-muesli of organic, local, grass-fed, sentient beef, served with ground tubers, freshly drowned and covered in an urban gravy, and imported Belgian sprouts tortured in a milk-fat expansion.

Ah, what a feast. And plus, since the waitstaff recognized me as a local food critic, they brought me a second meated-loaf, courtesy of the chef.

Pictured above: "Excuse me, the bacon-seal is broken on this one."

Overall, a wonderful experience. I give Uncommon Ground 1000 stars. Out of 10,000 stars.

Ball Sandwich and an Entire Sleeve of Crescent Rolls

It's the weekend before the first exam of the second year of medical school, so you can imagine that I am making the appropriate preparations. Just this Friday, I participated in the medical school Society Olympics, which is my favorite event blending arbitrary tribalism and complementary sandwiches.

The best event was one of the relay races called the "Ball Sandwich." Now, that may SOUND vaguely homo-erotic, but let me put you at ease. It was just two sweaty, muscular men linking arms and holding hands back-to-back, skipping together with a kickball wedged between them. And if that still makes you uncomfortable, you can also call it a "Man Sandwich."

Pictured above: A blurry ball sandwich. Please don't Google "blurry ball sandwich".

Well, time to get back to studying. And what powerful carbohydrate have I chosen to fuel my brain engine? Why, not an entire sleeve of cinnamon rolls, but rather an entire sleeve of crescent rolls!

Pictured above: This is not a sleeve of crescent rolls. This is half a sleeve. Multiply this by two, and you will understand both my study style and the reason I live alone.

Bloggin' Your Way to a Thinner You!

Last Friday, I had the amazing opportunity to give a guest lecture on blogging to a "Writing in the Technological Age" course at the University of Illinois-Chicago*. After the laser-show and the stunning introduction by my hype man, I entered the classroom and pummeled them with wisdom. Here is a small** excerpt.

*factual
**fictional

"Are you frustrated with your lives? Can't seem to find what you are looking for? You're right! There is something wrong with you. And I am the only person who can help you help yourself. With blogging.

With my patented 44-step blogging system, I can teach you how to blog yourself into real blogging shape. Here's my first tip: go on a blogging diet. Eat only foods featured on your blog.

Pictured above: It's got a TOMATO. It's HEALTHY.

But don't blogging stop there! Inspire others with your blogdom and blogography.

Pictured above: You know what this flight of pancakes makes me want to eat? A healthy fruit snack.

Once you've blogged into the blogosphere, you can blog your blog into full blogness by blogging about other blogs. For example, you could blog about how amazing my blog, The Sartorial Skeptic, is. Be sure to include many, many links. And hyperlinks. http://sartorialskeptic.blogspot.com/

I've really enjoyed my time live-blogging with you (that's what I call talking), and feel free to blog about this blog-lecture. Just be sure to blog about my blog! Blog ME? No, blog YOU. Happy blogging!"

Mom's in Town!

Oh, are you upset that this post is a little late? Well, it was because I was hanging out with my mom. Hold onto your seats, because she got the party started.

Pictured above: And by "party," I mean we doubled-down and ordered both cow tendons and octopus balls. Yeah, we were makin' it RAIN tendons.

After we were done eating, we decided to go for a walk and burn off some of those calories. Just kidding, we got deep fried Asian snacks!

Pictured above: Aw, yeah. We've got satay and rangoon SWAG.

Then, we celebrated my older brother's birthday with a simple, tasteful cake. NOOOOPE!

Pictured above: Fondant designed sushi on triple-layered, chocolate-peanut-butter cake. I'll be honest; I was disappointed that the whole thing wasn't dipped in batter and deep-fried. But there's always next year.

So, Ivan Pavlov Walks Into a Bar...

I love Japanese food as much as the next half-Japanese guy, so you can imagine my excitement at getting some authentic food from my homeland. This time, it was a lovely establishment called Ginza Restaurant. However, I had to go with my "friends," many of whom haven't even BEEN to Japan. For insurance, I brought along a full Japanese person, but it turned out we didn't even need her, since I knew the Japanese password ("I have brought shame to myself and my family").

Pictured above: You heard me. I don't need you.

It was a fun night, as we were celebrating the end of our first summer research rotations. My friend Diego just ended his time in a pschiatric laboratory, so there were pyschology jokes abounds.

Pictured above: "And then the bartender says, 'That's not MY unconditioned stimulus!'"

Afterwards, as is tradition when I spend time with these people, I bought a cake/pie and try to consume it in its entirety. I failed.

Pictured above: I'll bet Kobayashi could have eaten it, along with the paper plates and glass table.

Dude, It Was Just Hamlet With Lions

People are always asking me, "How do you stay so skinny after you eat so much?" After I explain my high parasite load and internal rumen system, I just show them a picture of my typical breakfast.

Pictured above: Lemon-meringue pie, apple fritter, and half a sticky bun. Well, sorry, I needed a snack if I was going to take the time to get a photograph.

Despite my love of refined and other sugars, I often sample the non-desserts other cultures have to offer. For example, just this weekend I explored Chicago's Greektown.

Pictured above: Moussaka from the Athena Restaurant. Not only was it delicious, it was also a perfect topographical replica of the cliff where Moussaka was dropped to his death by Jeremy Irons.

To help me better appreciate the Greek atmosphere, I brought along a companion familiar with the intricacies of the culture and language, as she had once lived in a "sorority." Though every time I inquired as to which one she belonged, she refused to tell me.

Pictured above: "Look, I don't want to ask your friend 'Delt.' Why can't you just answer me?"

How to Order Squid Balls in Chinatown

So, with the first year of medical school behind me, I ventured down to Chinatown to celebrate with my brother and his friends. Loyal readers will remember that the last time I went to Chinatown, I tried to order the most illegal item on the menu and then attacked our waiter after I entered jellyfish madness.

But this time, we got "hot pot" style Chinese food. For those unfamiliar, it is where you hold thinly sliced meats in boiling, spiced water to flash-cook them.

Pictured above: On the left is the "non-spicy" water, and on the right is a mixture of 20% water, 20% peppers, and 60% neurotoxin blend.

So, it is the Chinese version of the American State-fair, with just boring water instead of that delicious deep-fry oil. Also, you cannot get nacho cheese dipping sauce for your squid.

Pictured above: "Sai, why are you taking a picture of your chopsticks?" "I'm going to put it on my blog." "What?" "Oh, don't worry. I'll think of some witty caption for it."

Anyway, I got to eat cuttlefish balls. Oh, don't worry, it was just ground squid formed into balls. Though I think it may have been 60% squid gonad.

Pictured above: Lanterns adorned with the traditional Chinese symbol representing "10%-off if you pay in cash".

How to Order Dolphin in Chinatown

Although I've been living in Chicago for nearly 5 months now (that's 22.5 monthometers for you metric system users out there), I had never yet ventured to Chinatown. This is mostly because I was told that if I traveled anywhere south of the loop in Chicago, I would be instantly mugged, stabbed, shot, forced to join a gang, and, worst of all, be confronted by my own white guilt. Luckily, on this my first trip to Chinatown, I had "friends" to protect me. Or at least people more easily stabbed than me.

Pictured above: C'mon, guys! Getting stabbed isn't that bad! Think of it as being hugged by a knife.

We went to a 24-hour Chinese diner, which turned out to be very similar to American diners, with some key differences. For instance, instead of everything being deep fried, everything was covered in soy sauce. And instead of a jukebox playing in the corner, we were flanked by dual televisions playing bizarre Chinese soap operas. I was secretly hoping that a bunch of Chinese Jets would challenge the Chinese Sharks to a quaint gang battle while we were there, but sadly no one joined in when I started snapping and dancing around the hostess.

Regardless, I was happy to escape my medical school bubble. It was fun to spend time with friends who don't flinch at the word "histology."

Pictured above: Best friends forever!

First, we started with an appetizer. We wanted to eat the most dangerous animal on the menu, but since they had unfortunately run out of murder-fin tuna, we ordered the jellyfish.

Pictured above: Jellyfish tastes like neither jelly nor fish, but rather like a tentacled turnip. But just like when you are consuming any cnidarian, you are just happy that your mouth isn't being filled with venomous barbs.

I, of course, asked for a dish on the secret menu, which required that I give the secret passcode ("I'm Asian. No, really.").

Pictured above: It was a bit of a hassle, but not many places can bring you dolphin meat this fresh.

Overall, it was quite the satisfactory meal. We even went to a nearby bakery to top off the night.

Pictured above: Green tea cheesecake? Now I've seen everything! Oh wait, never mind. I still haven't seen Iron Man 2. But I imagine that it would be similar to eating green tea cheesecake.

Ducks Don't Have Hands

The first exam of medical school is fast approaching, and I will be faced with my first academic challenge in Chicago. As my classmates scurry to the library to stress about this upcoming test, I place my hand warmly upon their shoulders and say: "Don't worry. This is medical school. Failure is not an option; it is an inevitability." Oddly enough, this did not comfort them, despite being a big part of my upcoming motivational speaker series "Don't Give Up, Give In: You've Already Lost!"

Regardless, I have found some time to distract myself from the tedium of pretending to study. I went to explore the underground tunnels near the lake, where I discovered a city of hundreds of spiders.

Pictured above: Chi-town spi-town. The joggers and bikers going through the tunnel all stopped to see why I was taking pictures. Then they noticed that the entire tunnel was covered in spiders, and promptly started to freak out. They all ran out, even after I reassured them that they would have a solid 12 hours of consciousness before they succumbed to a violent death from a spider bite. Some people just can't see the bright side of things.

When not spider spelunking, I've also been putting in some time with my brother and his wife. My brother plays the husband role well (wears a variety of sweaters), and my sister-in-law is just as accomplished (criticizes said sweaters). But occasionally, we will all go to a coffee shop to get away from it all to discuss politics and other non-sweater-related issues.

Pictured above: I also ordered the world's smallest scone. I didn't mind so much, because it made my coffee look huge. Then it also made my hands look huge, which made me quite self-conscious. But I recovered, remembering that promise I made never to let baked-goods affect my self esteem ever again.

The coffee shop also had a board of weekly specials. This was good news for me, since I was only aware of the "free doughnuts in the dumpster behind Dunkin' Donuts after it closes" special in my neighborhood.

Pictured above: My favorite is the "buy two pies, get one free" Wednesday. Some of you may be asking, "Why do you need three pies?" Well, I certainly do not need three pies. I do need two pies, and who am I to deny a third if it presents itself?

We also went to a Vietnamese restaurant later that night, where our table shared dishes prepared from an entire duck. The roast duck was carved and made into Vietnamese sandwiches, the scraps were made into a fried rice dish and a fried noodle dish, and then the rest of the carcass was made into a Pho soup. At the end, we were all given a raspberry sorbet, leading us to ponder as to what was the duck's contribution to the dessert. Initially, my guess was that the ducks (being excellent chefs) actually prepared the sorbet while they were still alive, but then I remembered that they don't have hands. And as anyone who has made a sorbet can tell you, you definitely need hands.

Pictured above: Peking duck. Like the Native Americans who use every part of the buffalo, the Vietnamese truly use every part of the duck. But while the American Indians fashion tools from some of the most exotic parts of the buffalo, the Vietnamese simply label the more disgusting body parts in a duck as "delicacies." Even a guy drinking water from a buffalo bladder would think that is gross, and buffalo bladders are one of the bottom five bladders you can drink from.

Quesadillas and Brad Pitt

Zucchini is the Brad Pitt of vegetables. Great in everything, but never really appreciated in the more obscure roles.

I still haven't adjusted to making food only for myself, and not for 50 men at Krehbiel. Maybe I should just start making dinner for everyone on my floor.

Relaxin'

Apple-cinnamon coffeecake, crusted with dried orange peel and covered in a brown-sugar syrup, and french-pressed coffee for now. Tomorrow, a real post.

Fast Breaks and Radishes

This wonderful Sunday morning, my older brother Kuma and I went out for a delicious Chicago breakfast (for those unfamiliar with it, "breakfast" is a kind of early lunch or very late dinner).

He suggested a place called the Bongo Room, which I assumed was some kind of Argentinian nightclub that served breakfast-themed cocktails (for example, a cosmopolitan benedict, which is vodka, cranberry juice, and just a splash of hollandaise sauce). But it turns out with was your classic Wicker Park restaurant: everything you enjoy, but exactly $2.50 more expensive than you would expect (walking into the restaurant cost $2.50). I ordered the breakfast burrito in an attempt to make myself appear more ethnic.


Pictured above: A burrito filled with avocado, eggs, and regret. While it was delicious, my brother's croissant sandwich (not pictured) had significantly more pastry.

Afterwards, as Folmsbee men are want to do, we ventured to see if there were other foodstuffs to conquer. We stumbled upon a Farmer's Market, but yet there were no farmers being sold, only sad buckets of fruits and vegetables at a considerable mark-up.

As much of a fan of local food I used to be, I have some skeptical hold-ups best described by Mr. Brian Dunning (see here for those reading for science and not absurdity). But regardless, I found some roots too appealing to turn down. My love of subterranean vegetables is well documented.


Pictured above: a chump and his turnips.

More exciting events transpired today, but I will save those juicy tales for later in the week. For now, I shall change out of my after-dinner tuxedo and into my flannel pajamas and cap. I have a long night of dream-thinking ahead of me.

Full-Frontal Pizza

When I told my "friends" that I would be moving to Chicago, they told me to do two things right away: get some Chicago-style deep dish pizza and join a gang. The pizza was easy enough (see below), but unfortunately, the organized crime market is still in shambles since The Bubble burst back in 1999 ("The Bubble" is the nickname of the powerful New York mob don who died after eating too many Pop Rocks).

However, I managed to get an interview at the Chicago satellite office of the Yakuza. Now I just need to brush up on my gangster interview skills, which are significantly different from those I picked up on the medical school trail. For example, did you know that when interviewing for medical school, it is considered "rude" if you reload your revolver in front of your interviewer?

To aid in my search and boost my morale, two Kansas acquaintances visited me this weekend. They remembered my fondness of large tanks of water, and we went to the aquarium. It is a great thing to view the wonders of aquatic life, and it gives each of us the chance to experience what it would be like to be King of Atlantis.


Pictured above: the world's smartest fish. It may have a giant head, but it still only has book smarts. The other fish know that it may be able to get into fish-college, but it wouldn't survive on the fish-streets.

Then, we went to a local park, where my visitors dressed up like hipsters to frighten the people who had real "jobs." I couldn't join in, because I was busy changing into my tuxedo (as a true gentleman is want to do as the day approaches 6:00 p.m. [the gentleman's hour]).


Pictured above: This hipster has a "book" (a kind of vintage e-reader made out of wood-pulp) and an unnecessary scarf, but still failed to show proper levels of smug.

Afterwards, we went to a local eatery for pizza. Little did I know the travesty I would witness.

This pizza was certainly deep-dish, but toppings and cheese were violently stuffed into it with no regard to the dignity of the dish. I learned a valuable lesson: just because something is delicious does not mean it is not a crime against humanity. This pizza was obscene and is not suitable for younger viewers.


Pictured above: the obscene pizza (censored for your benefit), flashing its full-frontal toppings and taunting us with its scandalous cheese.

Overall, a good weekend.

Chicago Food!

My first homemade meal: vegetarian carbonara. Sautéed red onions and cucumber in a cream sauce, with parsley and basil.


Add some noodles and some eggs, and you get a mighty fine meal.


I did enjoy some pizza in Chicago today, topped with goat cheese, spinach, and sun-dried tomatoes, for only $12. Look's like Go Roma is my kind of place.